Fish out of water
by Writer of the North
Summary: Alternate-Inheritance story. Erik, Christine, and Raoul get transported to the land of Alagaesia. In this strange land how do they cope? Who do they turn to for help? This is an Inheritance cycle/Phantom of the Opera crossover.


Near Teirm the boats rocked gently in their slips as rain pattered down upon their decks. In the great forest of Du Weldenvarden the trees blew fiercely around as many elves slept.

And at Galbatorix's immense palace in Uru'baen the clouds thundered like a group of mighty dragon. Soon after, lightning answered brightening the room for a brief second. The after image of the room had been temporarily burned into his eyes. He blinked his eyes to adjust back to the darkness that surrounded him.

Something was changing in the world again. He looked down at his left hand, his eyes fully adjusted back to the dark surroundings. On his fourth finger of his left hand sat a ring. With little light the ring appeared to be black, when in-fact, it was properly lighted it showed a dark purple. He rubbed the ring absentmindedly. It had been a reminder and somewhat of a comfort to him. Where a precious gem might be, instead he had crafted a portion of the last remaining scale of his first dragon, Jarnünvosk, into it.

So, he rubbed the now smooth scale and pondered this new change he was feeling.

Suddenly another roar of thunder came, again followed with lighting bright enough to challenge even the oldest dragon's flame. This was followed by even more frequent flashes and rumbles, becoming closer and closer together in time apart. There was soon no distinction between each individual pair - the glow and noise were constant now. He counted under his breath for nearly a minute till the thunder and lightning finally stopped, and when he opened his eyes, he was no longer alone.

Where there had been nobody before stood a woman and two men. Attempting to get a better look at them, Galbatorix spoke "Brisingr." and the braziers lit up with fire illuminating his throne room. The woman and shorter man gasped while the taller man that curiously had a mask on the right side of his face snarled before retreating to a dark corner of the room.

"There is no use hiding in the corner, masked man, it will do you no good." Galbatorix said. The other man and woman just stared and clung to each other with desperation and fear of the unknown.

The man with the mask did not move, just glared.

"I demand to know where we are and how we got here!" the shorter man spoke.

"There is no need for you to know, you will be dead soon anyways." Galbatorix smirked to himself, and shrugged his shoulders before calling the guards. All three of the strange people were grabbed by the incoming men. The shorter man and the woman clung to each other, the woman sobbing.

The shorter man yelled out " Do you know who I am? I am the Vicomte De Chagney! My family is very old and very powerful, you will pay for this!"

In the corner the man with the mask had whipped out some kind of lasso and was busy attempting to fight. Galbatorix shook his head before muttering "Melathane" a binding the rebellious man with magic, and he went stiff. With him finally subdued the remaining guards drug the strange people down to the dungeon.

_That was odd..._ He once again began rubbing his ring and thinking. But no matter. These people may prove helpful...

Galbatorix would have to test them.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Erik's head throbbed along with his right leg and wrist, he paid his pain no mind though, he was alone in a cell with that boy! Currently the fop was slaying in one corner, unconscious. He knew he would wake soon, so Erik sat in the opposite corner thinking. He had to get out off here. How could he, the Phantom of the Opera, get stuck in some strange place with the Vicomte and Christine?

Oddly enough, his weapons had not been taken from him. The guards had merely thrown him and the boy in one cell and his Christine in a cell further down. She had sobbed for an hour strait, and Erik had not been able to comfort her because of the Vicomte - he had sat there painfully while Christine sobbed and called for her angel of music, Raoul, her father, anyone.

He stood up, walked over to the boy, gave him a good kick in the head, ribs and between his legs before walking over to the cell door. It was a simple lock; he had built many more complex ones in his time. Strange, but who knew what things were like here. Perhaps everything was strange.

Pulling a knife out of his pocket he quickly picked the lock. He slowly opened the door to slip out. He closed it behind him and secured the lock back in place as if it had never been opened. Staying to the shadows, he crept along the corridor until he got to Christine's cell. No. Not yet. He would have to come back for her, it was too risky to take her with him at the moment.

The hallway, long and dark before him was only spotted with light twice or thrice down the length of it. At these intervals of light a guard stood in medieval age armor, a sword at their sides and a pike in their hand. _Curious...have we somehow traveled back in time? _It would be easy to get past them, he suspected, for he was cloaked in black, nor was he wearing heavy armor as the guards were.

He debated with himself briefly weather or not to kill the men. It was probably best. They were far enough apart that unless they were truly paying attention, (Which he suspected they were not), they would not see their comrade fall. Yet with the weight of their armor... It may cause a large racket were he to Punjab them. Perhaps... perhaps if he snuck behind them and stabbed them in the neck with his knife... Yes that would work, he could lower the bodies to the floor without noise.

So, creeping forwards through the shadows, he took his first victim silently, quickly coming up beside him, and covering his mouth with his hand and dragging the knife deeply through the man's neck.

He proceeded this way, killing whoever he came across and silently lowering the bodies to the ground before processing to the next one all the way down the corridor. He reached a staircase at the end and quickly climbed it.

At the top of the staircase stood a large heavy black door. It appeared to have no lock_. Strange..._ Erik opened the door nonetheless. He was greeted by a familiar room; it was the room that they had appeared it first. The sound of a lone pair of hand clapping brought him out of his observation of the odd room.

"Welcome Opera Ghost. Or, should I say Erik?"


End file.
